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Mar de olivos MAG
August 8, 2023
I am from that land
Where there was rich dirt not sand
Where the olivos grew green
Where conejos, linces and deer were seen.
Yo soy de aquella fértil tierra
Que mi familia cultiva desde antes
de la guerra
Their life cycle in unison with the trees
That produced golden oil with ease.
But the olivos greatest benefactor
Was lost to a disaster
Las que deberían caer a mil
Tampoco llegaron en abril.
Where did our water go?
What causes our reserves to be so low
For this world is under the reign
Of a vicious cycle of consuming in vain.
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This poem is about how climate change and droughts affect olive farming in Northern Andalusia, Jaén. This is a pressing reality to not only olive farmers in the area, but to many other parts of the world that have had their plantations and harvests altered by